Imaginary
by midnight glade
Summary: And so he talked with a empty hospital bed. Made that speech, giving points to two Gryffindor’s that had done nothing, and to one that did not exist at all."


Imaginary

Summary: "And so he talked with a empty hospital bed. Made that speech, giving points to two Gryffindor's that had done nothing, and to one that did not exist at all."

----

Albus Dumbledore fell from the Astronomy tower.

The bright green curse that Severus Snape had spoken having hit him square in the chest. He had tumbled backwards, falling of the top of the ancient building, and was currently plummeting to the ground as gravity did its work. His bright, intelligent blue eyes slowly losing their life. The wind whistling past his robes; buffeting his, now, frail body as the killing curse drained his life. A blackened hand could be seen from one of the sleeves of his robes. To anyone else the hand appeared like it had been injured in a fire but, alas, it had not. It was the product of ancient magic. A curse if you will.

He knew that he was dead.

He had known that he was dead the very moment he had put on that cursed ring.

His blackened hand was the result of that. Yes, Albus was lucky, for at least the curse had been contained long enough for him to put his plan into action. So that he could be allowed to orchestrate his own death. Now, at least, the Elder wand should never fall into Voldemort's hands. He only hoped that the Dark wizard would never find out that it was Draco that had disarmed him.

Falling. Falling.

Albus knew that now would be the time that Voldemort would make his move. With him dead, the dark lord would have a clear shot at the Ministry, as he would no longer fear Dumbledore's interference. He also knew that most of the world would be in despair, for they would without Dumbledore how would they survive the war? He was the only one Voldemort had ever feared. They trusted him too much.

But Albus had left them hope.

Harry Potter.

Harry would finish this. Harry would defeat Voldemort.

Albus knew he had it in him; the ability to be a leader. The ability to be a great and powerful wizard. Harry was everything this world needed; kind, brave and overwhelmingly selfless. Ever since he had first met him, Dumbledore had cared for him. Cared about him, perhaps, more than he should. He had always smiled when Harry had been happy. Always been overjoyed when the child had come to visit him in his office. Over time, he had started to follow the boys progress in school. Make sure he was doing alright in classes. He knew that he shouldn't but he couldn't help it. The boy was like the grandson he never had and, although, he wished he didn't have to make the child do this -for what was he if not a child?- he knew he had no choice. Even he, Harry's headmaster, could not keep the boy out of the war. Trouble seemed to find him, wherever he went.

Yes, Harry would help. Harry with his brilliant green eyes and confident smile.

Harry would save the world.

And so Dumbledore died; a peaceful smile on his face.

------

_Godric's Hollow 1981_

"So, you've arrived at last?" Voldemort hissed.

"Yes, Tom." Dumbledore said calmly as he stepped into the Potter's nursery. He had left the minute the wards had been breached. James had contacted him via a 'panic button'. Magical of course but still it amazed him what Muggles's come up with. That's when he saw the state of the nursery. His eyes flashed with fury. "What have you done?"

Voldemort gave him a serpentine smiling, seeming to ignore the use of his given name in favour of taunting. He spread is arm as if to show off the three dead bodies on the floor. Lily, James…and Harry. Their eyes wide and vacant. Dead. So much life lost. So much potential. So much hope. Gone. "Lovely, isn't it? The Potter's are dead…even their precious son. The so called _saviour_. Tell me, how do you suppose that happened? I thought he was supposed to…defeat me? Is this all the light has to offer."

"This ends tonight." Dumbledore replied. His eyes like twin orbs of ice. Dangerous and fiery. Powerful.

"I thought you said you wouldn't kill me?" Voldemort tilted his head; as if he was curious as to what was about to happen.

"I won't. As I have said before. There are worse things than death." Dumbledore whispered.

"What is worse than death? Tell me _Dumbledore_?" Voldemort spat.

"If you truly do no know then I can not tell you." Dumbledore replied sadly, the fire still in his vivid ice blue eyes.

"It is because there is nothing worse than dying! And I, Lord Voldemort, have mastered death. Yes, _Albus_, I can not die! I have done what you were to _weak_ to do…what you didn't have the power to do. And now I have powers you can't even dream of." Voldemort hissed. Cold and serpentine.

"No Tom. You do not have powers that make you stronger. Rather, they make you weaker." Dumbledore replied. Still deadly calm. His fingers clenched around his wand in slight anticipation.

"You know nothing. Tonight you shall die and I shall finally possess the Elder Wand."

"You are the one that knows nothing. I still see the student in you. The seventeen year old boy who never learned that magic is not just spells and curses. It's you that matters. Who you are and how you use it." Dumbledore stated.

"Your ways are outdated old man. Now you die!" Voldemort screamed.

The house groaned as the two wizards traded spells. Dark and light. Good and evil. The most powerful magic known to man was being traded like children's toys. Streaks of brightly coloured light lit up the sky. Greens and blues. Dusky reds and glittering gold's. Blinding whites, shadowy blacks and simplistic silvers. Many spells missed and slowly the house began to fall apart. Support beams shattered and walls began to shake. The floor started to give way forcing both wizards to fight for their balance. They were both wounded. Voldemort had several cuts on his body. One curving down his neck. Dumbledore had a deep wound in his arm. Still, both were relatively unharmed. They were too evenly matched to do any real damage to each other.

But their magic was swirling in the air.

Both of them could feel the concentration of it. Both felt the magic in the air. Both knew that the house of Godric's Hollow was becoming very dangerous.

Voldemort saw his change. He had no need to fear the magic. He could not die. And if the Muggle loving fool thought there were worse things than death then…

"I curse you, Old Man, I curse you." Voldemort spat.

"_VOTUM UT REPRODA ANIMADVERTO!"_

The curse was a electric blue and hit Dumbledore straight in the chest; sending him flying back into the wall behind him. The Headmaster crashed threw it and fell two stories until he hit the ground; landing at least five metres back from the house. Albus felt something in his back crack and groaned slightly in pain. Still, he…sensed something in the air and tried to get as far away from the house as possible. He had to get to the edge of the wards so he could apparate! But he never got there. When he had managed to pull himself another few metres Dumbledore across the ground collapsed unconscious.

The air went deadly still.

Nothing moved. And then…

BOOM.

A plume of fire, red and bloody, engulfed the house. Windows shattered and walls splintered. The flames reached up into the sky, as if trying to touch the stars with their fiery fingers. Debris rained down in the surrounding houses and gardens but Dumbledore had somehow managed to escape the blast and the aftermath. Magic hummed in the air. Volatile and uncontrollable. Thick and heavy. It wasn't over yet.

But Voldemort was dead…

And Dumbledore was the saviour of the wizarding world.

----

When Dumbledore awoke, in St. Mungo's, he was cursed.

But, of course, he had no idea of this occurrence. Albus believed that Harry had survived that terrible night and had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. His own true memory of the night erased. The healers were puzzled. Why would Voldemort curse him to think the Potter boy had lived? They had wanted to keep him there but when he showed no other signs of mental deterioration other than think the child was alive, they let him go with instructions to rest. After all, he had just defeated the dark lord…maybe the effects would fade with time.

But they did not fade.

Albus believed the boy had lived and it was only his status as the one who had defeated Voldemort that kept him out of St. Mungo's.

Besides, the curse wasn't effecting his judgement. He was still perfectly able to run Hogwarts, as he proved to those who doubted him and deemed him insane. Of course, he was all unaware of this. Unaware that Harry Potter had died that Halloween night.

It was only when 'Harry' started school that the trouble started.

It was fine at the beginning of the year. Albus still went about his business as usual, running Hogwarts, but he…asked teachers about the Potter boy as if he actually went to the school. Leaving a Christmas present under the tree to a boy that would never get it. The Cloak was retrieved by a house elf. Went down to where the mirror of Erised was and talked to a boy only he could see. Had a entire conversation with thin air.

A imaginary friend.

It was, infact, Dumbledore, not 'Harry' that drove Voldemort from the school when he first tried to get his body back. It was he who, as he still had such a powerful presence, defeated the possessed Professor Quirrel when he tried to steal the Philosophers stone. It was he who saved the school, and the world, from Voldemort that year. Still, none of this registered in his mind. It was all _Harry_. Harry had proven to be the hope that he was looking for.

He truly was the chosen one.

And so he talked with a empty hospital bed. Made that speech, giving points to two Gryffindor's that had done nothing, and to one that did not exist at all. His mind changed the whispers of confusion that followed this into cheers and applause. The words of confusion by a certain Ron and Hermione into words of congratulations to Harry. Yes, everything was going good. The headmaster smiled. The staff either side of him watched in worry.

His health was checked again.

But it was decided that they couldn't remove him from Hogwarts…the healers had no idea how his mind would take it. What he would think. Anyway, he wasn't hurting the students. He was still doing his job as headmaster. Still protecting them.

And he had defeated Voldemort.

So he went back as headmaster and the teachers hoped that his health may improve. No such luck. He still asked about Harry and talked about the boy fondly and, not knowing what else to do, the teachers agreed. If only to ease his mind. Only Snape called the boy arrogant; if only because he couldn't imagine any son of James Potters to be well mannered and kind. He couldn't see Lily's selflessness and intelligence being reflected in a boy that did not exist. He just didn't.

There was no diary.

Ginny Weasley was never given a diary by Lucius Malfoy.

It was this year that the curse seemed to go too far. Whole events were made up by Dumbledore's mind to accompany his 'imaginary friend'. He announced pretrifications that never happened. Cancelled a Quidditch match when it should not of been cancelled. Arranged a curfew to protect students from a monster that had not been released. And it was for that reason that he was temporally taken away from Hogwarts. To see if the curse on his mind could be lifted and to stop him from doing anything else to the school for no apparent reason. The Headmaster came quietly which was unexpected in itself. The Ministry had expected him to fight but he did not.

They could not break the curse.

In fact, they could not figure out what it was. The very nature of it still alluded them. After all this time.

However, when he did not mention Harry or the so called 'Chamber of Secrets' they had to let him back to the school…how could they keep him? Anyway, didn't he deserve to be left at his post? To be allowed to do much of what he wants?

After all, he had defeated Voldemort.

'Harry's' second year came and went; with only a few more odd occurrences as they had keep him in hospital until, basically, the end of the school year. Next was third year for the boy that didn't exist and, suddenly, Dumbledore became very worried when Sirius Black escaped from prison. He _must_ be after Harry. That year wasn't as strange as second year as Black really _was _a danger to the students. Dementors were a bit extreme but nobody complained. They all feared Black. He was Voldemort's supporter after all. Sirius was never found but Dumbledore seemed to believe he was innocent after that year…

He hinted at thin air to go back in time to save someone who was not at Hogwarts.

Fourth year was much the same. Dumbledore acted like a fourth name came out the Goblet when really there were only three Champions. He called out Harry Potter and his mind, once again, turned the whispers of confusion at what was going on into whispers of suspicion and outrage. A fourth champion? Impossible. Cheating. He asked 'Harry' if he had put his name in the Goblet and missed the glances from the other heads of the schools. The looks of pity. He thought Harry came back with Cedric's body…not seeing that the body had been sent as a message by Voldemort….

Fudge didn't believe what Dumbledore said about Voldemort returning not because he was scared. Oh no.

He didn't believe him because he thought the curse was getting worse.

And so his health was checked again. And again they could not break it. And again they cursed Voldemort's name for what he had done to their saviour.

But, of course, they let him back to Hogwarts.

After all, he had defeated Voldemort.

Fifth year began. And the Order of the Phoenix was united under Dumbledore. It was true, that many only believed him because Snape's Dark Mark had burned black. Only because of the attacks that coincided with this. Only because Severus went back to his former master as a spy. And Dumbledore…he spoke to a empty courtroom. Empty. Empty because there was no hearing. Empty because the boy he was defending was long gone. Long dead. The cold stone walls all that was there. Nothing more.

That year was better in some ways.

Dumbledore was deemed insane in the paper because of his impromptu speech at the end of the last year. His mind didn't conjure events as much as the previous years. While it was true that he believed that 'Harry' joined him in being ridiculed and hated but that seemed to make him seem less alone. Now, it wasn't just him in the firing range. Not just him as a scrape goat. For what was he, if not that? Whenever something went wrong it was always _Dumbledore_. _Dumbledore _can help. _Dumbledore_ can fix it. But now the Headmaster had help. 'Harry' was the embodiment of all his hopes. Someone who could end the war when he couldn't. He was the Chosen One. He took the weight of the world of off Albus's shoulders and bore it himself. Without complaint. Never moaning. Never falling. Never failing.

Because he was Harry Potter.

And he represented Dumbledore's hope for there to be someone else to be there when he failed.

When he fell.

So he went down into the Ministry because 'Harry' had gone there to save Sirius. And he fought with a empty room because what use did Voldemort have with a Prophecy that was, in his eyes, no longer valid? He didn't see the worry in the eyes of his colleagues. Didn't realise that Dolores Umbridge was sent to Hogwarts to make sure that he wasn't losing his mind. What she reported to the Minister made him make the decision to refer Dumbledore back to St Mungo's . They did not expect him to fight back. And so he escaped Hogwarts and the Ministry could not find him. Snape was told to give Occlumency lessons to a child that had died long ago and, like before, he could not imagine any child of James Potter to be any good at it.

So 'Harry' never learned to block Voldemort from his mind.

No one destroyed Dumbledore's office. Albus told the Prophecy to a empty room; much to the horror of the portraits. They could only look on as, perhaps, the greatest wizard since Merlin slowly lost his mind. As he looked sadly at a blacked haired, green eyed, boy only he could see and told him of how he had failed him; when really, he had failed no one at all

And so his health was checked. And again the Healers were puzzled at why Voldemort had chosen to curse him in this way. And again Voldemort's name was cursed for what he had done to the worlds saviour.

But Fudge could not deny the Dark Lords return any longer.

Attacks were increasing in number and, slowly, he accepted the truth. Especially once he saw the Dark Mark above a attacked house. Especially when a death eater was captured alive.

And Albus was allowed back to Hogwarts.

Because what else could they do? He had proven to them that he was still more than a capable wizard when he had escaped the Ministries capture. So what could they do? Even they could not deny that he was one of the only people that had a chance in hell of defeating the Dark Lords, now stronger, forces. Besides, the only deterioration of his mental state was that he believed the Potter child to be alive. That's all. That didn't drain his magical power levels. Nor the fact that he was a brilliant strategist. What else could they do?

After all, he had defeated Voldemort.

So what else could they do?

Sixth year began and with it the cursed ring. Albus went to the Dursley's house to collect a boy who had never lived there. Never set foot in their house. He talked about a inheritance to a child, that wasn't much of a child to him anymore, who did not exist and never had. He took this child to see Horace Slughorn and never knew that the former Professor came to Hogwarts, not because Harry helped convince him, but because he realised that it was one of the safest places for him. Even in this state, Dumbledore was still one of the most powerful men in the world.

And so it continued.

Albus showed memories to 'Harry' and his hope for the future grew. He was going to die. He knew it. He knew what Draco had been asked to do. But Harry! Harry could finish it. Finish it all. It was this that made him miss the look of horror on Snape's face when he told him what would happen. For Severus knew that without Albus the world would be condemned to be ruled by Voldemort. He tried to get Dumbledore to tell him what the secret to killing Voldemort was so that someone else could finish it but Albus wouldn't tell him. His eyes just twinkled and Snape knew that he was thinking of Potter.

To bad the rest of the world couldn't have that hope.

To bad the rest of the world didn't have their own Harry Potter.

And so he made his will. Leaving a sword that had never been pulled out of the Sorting Hat to a boy that didn't exist. Leaving a Snitch to a boy who had never caught it. Leaving two Gryffindor's presents that would puzzle them for the rest of their lives. Finally, Albus thought, his plans were ready. Harry would take care of everything when he was gone. He could die knowing the world had been saved.

He went to the cave alone.

And alongside him, there was a boy that only he could see.

He could see the bright emerald green eyes and the messy black hair even when no one else could. And he told this boy to do everything he said that night. Albus felt strangely safe with Harry with him. He felt that if anything happened…Harry would know what to do. Because while Dumbledore was like something untouchable among man…Harry was the one who that _he _looked to for a saviour.

And so he drank.

'Harry' helped him along. Told him to drink. Even _made_ him. And he did it. Because he _trusted_ Harry. Albus trusted his imaginary friend more than anyone else.

And he got back to the tower and when he heard footsteps he knew that Harry must not be seen. That only he should die. Only when Harry was safely hidden did Dumbledore relax slightly; the potion had been worse than expected. But what more could he expect from Voldemort? Draco disarmed him as soon as he could and Albus felt his power over the Elder wand break but he didn't care. Harry would finish it. Harry would save the world…

After all, he had defeated Voldemort.

So Albus was hit by the killing curse and he fell out of the window. Falling to the hard ground beneath him. Faster and faster. A peaceful smile on his face when he hit the ground.

Dead.

All his hopes placed on one teenage boy.

His imaginary friend.

And so he was buried; in a marble tomb on the grounds of Hogwarts. As it should be. He had given everything to the school and to his students. Especially one. Harry Potter…despite the fact that he did not exist. Many flocked to his funeral. Bill Weasley with his mauled face. Ron and Hermione. Ginny. Hagrid. And others. So many others. And if he had been there - at his own funeral - he would of seen a black haired, green eyed, boy sitting in the empty seat beside friends he never knew, promising himself that no one would ever die protecting him again. But Albus was not there. And Harry, his hope for the world, was invisible to everyone else.

The whole Wizarding world must have been at his funeral. Cursing Voldemort. Crying. Sobbing. Wondering whether the curse is now broken. Cursing themselves for not being able to break it sooner. Photographs were taken. Articles written. All for the front page.

After all, he had defeated Voldemort.

----

Albus Dumbledore fell from the Astronomy tower.

The bright green curse that Severus Snape had spoken having hit him square in the chest. He had tumbled backwards, falling of the top of the ancient building, and was currently plummeting to the ground as gravity did its work. His bright, intelligent blue eyes slowly losing their life. The wind whistling past his robes; buffeting his, now, frail body as the killing curse drained his life. A blackened hand could be seen from one of the sleeves of his robes. To anyone else the hand appeared like it had been injured in a fire but, alas, he had not. It was the product of ancient magic. A curse if you will.

He knew that he was dead.

He had known that he was dead the very moment he had put on that cursed ring.

His blackened hand was the result of that. Yes, Albus was lucky, for at least the curse had been contained long enough for him to put his plan into action. So that he could be allowed to orchestrate his own death. Now, at least, the Elder wand would never fall into Voldemort's hands. He only hoped that the Dark wizard would never find out that it was Draco that had disarmed him.

Falling. Falling.

Albus knew that now would be the time that Voldemort would make his move. With him dead, the dark lord would have a clear shot at the Ministry, as he would no longer fear Dumbledore's interference. He also knew that most of the world would be in despair, for without Dumbledore how would they survive the war.

But Albus had left them hope.

Harry Potter.

Harry would finish this. Harry would defeat Voldemort.

Albus knew he had it in him; the ability to be a leader. The ability to be a great and powerful wizard. Harry was everything this world needed; kind, brave and overwhelmingly selfless. Ever since he had first met him, Dumbledore had cared for him. Cared about him, perhaps, more than he should. He had always smiled when Harry had been happy. Always been overjoyed when the child had come to visit him in his office. Over time, he had started to follow the boys progress in school. Make sure he was doing alright in classes. He knew that he shouldn't but he couldn't help it. The boy was like the grandson he never had and, although, he wished he didn't have to make the child do this -for what was he if not a child?- he knew he had no choice. Even he, Harry's headmaster, could not keep the boy out of the war. Trouble seemed to find him, wherever he went.

Yes, Harry would help. Harry with his brilliant green eyes and confident smile.

Harry would save the world.

And so Dumbledore died; a peaceful smile on his face.

-----

Just an idea me and my sister discussed. Read and review.


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